


keep a comfortable distance

by pugglemuggle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Tango is a beautiful boy, Young Love, gahhhh they're just.... really cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugglemuggle/pseuds/pugglemuggle
Summary: All Connor can do is look at how blue Tony's eyes are and try his best not to let himself glance down at Tony’s lips again, butGod.He’s always been good at keeping his eyes where they’re supposed to be, where his parents want them to be, but it’s never been this hard before.(Or, Connor has plenty of things to work through, but Tony is probably the best thing that's ever happened to him.)





	keep a comfortable distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eripotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eripotter/gifts).



> I hope you like this! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to write about these two, this was a lot of fun!
> 
> (title from "the only exception" by paramore because i'm That Bitch)

_The floor below him feels wrong and unsteady, like the floor of the locker room after coming off a long session on the ice. He’s been trying to keep track of his drinking. He’s been trying, but then came the kegstand for that goal he got during the third period, and then there was the tub juice, whose alcohol content was already ambiguous to begin with._

_“Connor,” Tony is saying, too loud, too close. There’s a girl standing next to him but he can barely see her. Connor blinks and Tony’s breath is on his face like the whoosh of warm air when you open the door to Faber’s lobby, and Tony’s hair is slicked to his forehead the way it is after practice or a game, and he’s smiling just as wide and bright as he did after passing Connor the game winner only six hours earlier. Blue. Tony’s eyes are blue, he notices._

_“Connor,” Tony says again. This time, Connor nods. “Do you remember? When I told you about my high school prom?”_

_“Yeah,” Connor says, because he does—last week, at the dining hall, after practice. Tony licked syrup off his fork and talked about Roosevelt High’s Starlight Prom, and Connor listened. He always listens._

_“This is better,” Tony says, grinning impossibly brighter. “This is so much better.”_

_And he always keeps his distance with Tony, even if they’re friends. He always keeps his distance, but tonight he can’t. Tony stands too close and plants his hand on Connor’s shoulder and Connor lets him._

—

It begins, like many college stories do, with a hangover.

Connor wakes up the next morning to the violent buzz of his phone vibrating off his bedside table and falling onto the floor. The sharp, jarring clatter jolts him into wakefulness with a stab of adrenaline, and for a moment, he has trouble remembering where he is. Gray wall. Red comforter. White, unblemished ceiling. No sign of the coffee-colored water damage staining the drywall he grew up with. He’s in his dorm room. He’s at Samwell.

He’s been at Samwell for a month. He should be used to this by now.

As soon as his heartrate calms, Connor begins to feel the dull edge of a hangover throbbing in his skull, and his stomach flips dangerously. _Fuck_. They have a game next weekend. They have practice all this week. If he needs more than a day to recover, then he’s not going to be at the top of his game at practice on Monday, and if he can’t practice— His parents—

Stop. Breathe. One thing at a time.

His phone. His phone is still on the floor, silent now that it’s finished the text message notification vibration sequence. He rubs at his eyes, then presses his palm against his temple as he leans over the side of the bed to scoop his phone up off the floor. _TONY – (4) UNREAD MESSAGES._ A series of hazy memories flash through his mind—a warm hand cupping his shoulder, an unbuttoned flannel, boozy breath ghosting over his ear as they leaned close to shout over the music. Nothing happened, he reassures himself. Nothing happened—it’s just Tony. But the thoughts do nothing to stave off the heat that rushes to his face and the dark twist in his gut that joins his unsettled stomach.

God. He never should’ve gotten that drunk.

It takes him a full few minutes to finally tap his phone’s unlock pattern and open up Tony’s messages. When he does, the texts leave him frowning.

> TONY (9:31 AM): u awake??? I think i’m still drunk???
> 
> TONY (9:44 AM): nvm, not drunk, throwing up in the 3rd floor north wing bthrooms
> 
> TONY (9:49 AM): do u have any aspirin? if not it’s fine
> 
> TONY (9:53 AM): how are u???

Christ. For as drunk as Connor had been last night, Tony had been drunker and half as experienced. Not even Connor could avoid feeling a bit of pity. He taps out a quick reply, then hits “Send”.

> YOU (9:57 AM): Hey. I do have aspirin. You still in the bathrooms? I can run it down to you.
> 
> TONY (9:57 AM): i'm actually in my room now, but yes!!! aspirin would be great!!!!!! thank u!!!
> 
> YOU (9:58 AM): Okay. I’ll be down in a couple minutes.
> 
> TONY (9:58 AM): how r u feeling tho?

Connor pauses, types, “ _Could be better,”_ then deletes the text and turns off his phone screen.

His roommate shifts in bed on the opposite side of the room as Connor grabs his keys, wallet, and aspirin jar, puts on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and heads out into the hall. It’s Saturday morning, and the dorm is almost silent as he takes the stairs down to Tony’s floor. He likes that—the quiet stillness. It’s almost a comical juxtaposition to the deafening roar of the Kegster the night before. The noises still echo a little in Connor’s mind, the headspace equivalent of ringing in his ears.

He texts Tony when he’s outside his dorm room and waits, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It takes a little while for Tony to come to the door, but when he does, Connor feels immediately sympathetic—Tony looks like shit.

“Hey,” Connor says.

“Umph,” Tony replies, opening the door and letting Connor inside.

He hands Tony the aspirin as soon as they step past the threshold. Half of the room is neat and orderly, but the other half, Tony’s side, is a mess. There are clothes all over the floor and papers covering the desk and desk chair. Connor doesn’t know where to sit.                                                      

“You can sit on my roommate’s bed—he won’t mind,” Tony says, gesturing vaguely to the bed on the other side of the room, its blankets pulled up neatly to the edge of the pillow. Connor hesitates.

“Where’s your roommate?” he asks.

Tony shrugs. “His parents, I think? He goes home over the weekends.”

Connor sits gingerly on the bedspread despite his misgivings. They sit in silence for a few moments as Tony pours himself a glass of water from the water pitcher in his mini fridge and pops some aspirin pills. Connor feels like he should say something. He doesn’t.

“So um, do you ever, you know, regret things you did?” Tony asks him suddenly. He leans against his bed, looking more nervous than hungover. “I mean, after drinking.”

“Did something happen?” Connor asks. His blood runs cold. _Nothing happened. You weren’t drunk enough for that, you didn’t black out, nothing_ happened _—_

“Yes. Well—maybe? Like, I don’t really _regret_ it...” Tony picks at his bed sheets. “I just don’t....”

Connor waits.

“You remember that girl from last night?” Tony says eventually.

 _Oh_. A spark of relief, and then an entirely different kind of anxiety floods in. “Vanessa?” he says. Tall, dark hair, perfect teeth. He remembers how quick Tony was to smile for her, and the memory turns his gut hollow. “I remember Vanessa. You and her talked a lot.”

“Yeah.... I went to high school with her. And... I think she kissed me last night.”

Connor frowns. “That’s....” He doesn’t know how to respond. _A mistake_ , he wants to say. _A drunken kiss. Too much too soon. She’s probably just using you_ —

He feels guilty the moment the thoughts cross his mind. “That’s great,” he forces himself to say instead. “That’s really great.”

“I guess,” Tony says, but he doesn’t look convinced by his own words.  “I mean, it was sort of nice, in a way. But I don’t really like her like that, so it was also really weird? I’ve just never, you know, kissed a girl before. Well, I’ve _kissed_ girls, but never, well, _kissed_ kissed—like, made out, you know?”

“Hm,” Connor says noncommittally. He hates this, hates this whole situation, and hates himself most of all for getting into this situation in the first place. The hollow space in his gut is going to eat him alive and still, he can’t seem to look away from the pink of Tony’s lips or the blue of Tony’s eyes. All of a sudden, the dorm room seems too small.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before, Connor?”

He wants to dissolve.

“I’m sorry, that was—I’m sorry,” Tony says quickly. “You don’t have to answer that.” An awkward silence fills the room. Tony gives him a strange look, one that Connor can’t quite figure out. Then he says, “I haven’t really kissed girls before, but I’ve kissed guys.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

And the world spins on a new axis.

Connor should say something. Tony’s waiting for him to say something. He’s looking at him with his whole face open and vulnerable, like he’s _scared_ , and all Connor can do is look at how blue his eyes are and try his best not to let himself glance down at Tony’s lips again, but _God_. He’s always been good at keeping his eyes where they’re supposed to be, where his parents want them to be, but it’s never been like this before. It’s like all the thoughts and feelings he’s been pushing down since he met Tony have come back tenfold.

He’s lucky they’re on opposite sides of the room.

“I’m....” Connor tries to say. He thinks of last summer, of the other boys before last summer, and he owes Tony this, he really does. It’s not fair. This is a big moment and Tony’s waiting for him and he’s being selfish but he doesn’t remember how to speak. “I’m—” His voice breaks. Goddammit. “Me too.”

He doesn’t look Tony in the eye when he says it—he can’t—but he can feel Tony staring.

“You’re the first person I’ve told at college,” Tony says.

“I’ve never told anyone,” Connor confesses. “Well, the guys I... you know.... They probably figured it out, but otherwise it’s just you.”

“Shit,” Tony says.

“Yeah.”

“...Yeah.”

And then Tony’s _laughing_. Connor told himself he wouldn’t look up, but it’s like his eyes are drawn there, like they weren’t meant to look anywhere else, and the moment their eyes lock, Connor feels himself crumble to salt.

He laughs too.

—

Things change. Not dramatically, not all at once, but he and Tony are different now—closer. They’re more than just the two freshmen brought together by shared circumstances. Something shifted in Tony’s dorm room that day, and now Connor feels... seen. He’s been used to being the one who notices. He’s never been noticed back.

But now Tony sends him glances during the walk to Faber, during post-practice debrief, during team breakfast, during away game bus rides, during Haus movie nights. _Me too,_ Connor thinks with every look. Tony starts asking things like, “Do you want to study with me at Annie’s today?” and Connor starts answering, “Yes.”

Connor had always considered himself the sort of person who didn’t need people. Hockey and school were enough, provided he could find a couple secret hookups between the two. He could watch and want from a distance. The more time he spends with Tony, though, the more he feels new things: new wants, new desires, new cravings for contact. Cravings he can’t seem to ignore. He thinks it’s supremely unfair, to feel this empty _lack_ of company when he never used to want company before Tony.

Or, maybe that’s a lie. He’s not sure how much of this _want_ is new, and how much of it has been there all along, unwittingly suppressed. He’s beginning to think that he never had a real friend before now. The realization makes him feel pathetically lonely.

But Tony is everything loneliness isn’t.

“Are you doing anything on Friday?” Tony asks him after an evening practice session during the week. They’re in the locker room changing, and when Connor looks up, Tony has just pulled his shirt down over his chest and is fiddling with the sleeve.

“No, I’m free Friday,” Connor answers. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Catholic student mixer,” Tony says. “You said you were Catholic, and I’ve been wanting to go, but if you’re not interested—“

“I’ll go,” Connor says, so quickly it surprises him. He hadn’t had any interest in going before Tony offered.

“S’wawesome,” says Tony with a smile. It’s a smile that Connor has found increasingly difficult to look at. Every time he sees it, he thinks he might do something stupid, like lean forward and kiss him.

But he doesn’t. He’s good at not kissing.

—

The mixer is not as bad as Connor expected. Everyone is young and desperate to meet new people, and it fills Connor with a cruel sort of pride that he’s arrived at the event with a friend. Connor chats halfheartedly with a few people he doesn’t think he’ll talk to again. Tony does a little better, finding a study group for his math class. They leave the event a half an hour early

He and Tony walk back to their dorm together through the chilly autumn air, the campus having already fallen dark. They’re quiet in a companionable sort of way. Connor imagines what it might be like to get close to Tony now, to let their shoulders brush as they walk, but the distance between them seems to have a push of its own, a force he can’t breach. He puts his hands in his pockets instead.

The freshman dorm finally looms before them, old brick and shadowed ivy. They both rush to get their key cards out but Connor manages to get his first, and he lets them in. They trudge up the stairs to the fourth floor.

He realizes, a moment too late, that this is the time to say goodnight.

“Connor,” Tony says. He isn’t smiling now—instead, his brow is creased, and he’s fiddling with his sleeve again. Connor braces for the worst. “Are you okay?”

Oh. Not what he expected.

“Yes,” he says. Then, “I think so.”

“It’s just—” Tony pauses and licks his lips, looking down the hallway. “You look sort of—lost, sometimes. But, you know, I’m not the best at reading faces, so—”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Connor interrupts. He’s starting to think he knows exactly what sort of expressions Tony is talking about. It’s embarrassing, to realize so abruptly that he was never as good at hiding as he thought he was. Or maybe, Connor thinks, he stopped trying. Maybe he wanted Tony to see right through him.

“I like you,” Connor says.

He thinks he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he’s admitting it to Tony.

The silence that follows feels surreal. The words are spread before them like clean ice—new, untouched, untested. It might break. It might not. Either way, one of them will need to take the first step, and whatever happens will change their landscape irrevocably. Connor feels sick. He stares at his shoes.

“Connor, I—” Tony starts.

“It’s okay,” Connor cuts in. He’s suddenly dizzy. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, _listen_ ,” Tony insists. Connor takes a deep breath, steels himself, and looks up.

Tony is beaming.

“I like you too,” he says.

_Oh._

Tony’s smile is as bright as he’s ever seen it. If his smiles before were magnetic, this one is gravity. This time, when Connor feels the urge to kiss him, he does.

The press of Tony’s lips is soft and warm. Connor has kissed people before, has had much rougher kisses, headier ones, but he doesn’t think any of them have affected him quite as much as this one. The press of Tony’s lips against his own makes his chest split a little wider until he feels consumed by the single point of contact, until he could swear that every inch of him is numb save for the place their lips touch. His head spins. He’s never been this scared.

“Good?” Tony breathes. The words brush air over his chin, and Connor nods, once, slowly. Any more and he thinks he might fall. Tony takes Connor’s wrist between his fingers and presses his thumb gently to the pulse thrumming just beneath the skin. Connor takes a breath and tries to steady himself.

“I’m fine,” Connor says. “Just.... You know.”

Tony nods. “I know,” he murmurs. He grips Connor’s wrist a little tighter and then says, “Me too.”

 _Me too_.

Connor leans in to kiss him again, but they’re both grinning too wide to do anything but smile against each other’s lips. How did he manage to hold back all this time? The thought of pulling away seems impossible now.

“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?” Tony says eventually.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them move.

“We’re not going to spend the night in the hallway,” Tony laughs.

“Probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah.”

It turns out Tony is the stronger of the two of them. He gingerly lets go of Connor’s wrist and takes a step back. “Practice tomorrow,” he repeats, backing up down the hallway.

“Goodnight,” Connor says.

“Goodnight!”

And then Tony turns a corner and disappears.

Tomorrow. They’ll see each other again tomorrow.

Connor can’t wait.


End file.
